The unbelievable truth
by bputy
Summary: Harry has had enough of the magical world and ended up working at the BAU. But his past follows him in the form of seven books that are sent by someone trying to shatter his newfound peace.


Twenty-five year old Harry James Potter was doing some much necessary paperwork at the BAU office. He had been working in Aaron's team as a profiler for a year under the name James Evans and he was good at what he did. He had fled the magical world a few years ago when there was yet another attempt on his life and the press and fans got out of control. He just couldn't deal with the magical world anymore. He'd traveled the world until he settled down in Quantico. He should've known he couldn't outrun his past forever.

One Friday morning, SSA Hotchner found a package on his desk. It contained seven books. They were all about the life of one Harry Potter. There also was a note attached to it that he read first. After he read the note he was shocked. And suddenly he realized he knew very little about their newest profiler. All he knew was that the young man came from London and was one of the best during his training. He had proven himself over and over again. Here is what Aaron read in the note.

_Agent Aaron Hotchner. _

_One of the members of your team has been deceiving you. This man, who has been lying to you since he came to work for you, is a freak of nature and very dangerous. These books tell you the truth about him. I doubt you would still be willing to work with this abomination after you've read them. As you may have guessed from the books, the man's true name is Harry Potter. You know him as James Evans._

_Enjoy the read._

"Evans. Could you explain to me what this is about?" Aaron asked, handing him the books and the note. James shrugged and read the note. He looked back at Aaron. "It's true. My name is Harry Potter, not James Evans. I guess some people from my past found me… Let's read the books to see what they have to say." He said calmly. "You're not worried about the people who sent this to you?" Spencer wondered. "Not in particular. If they wanted me dead, they would have send assassins, like the others did. That's why I left England and changed my name" Aaron looked at his youngest profiler in worry. "Harry, is there anything else you're hiding from us?" David Rossi asked. Harry smiled lightly. "Is there anyone who isn't hiding something?" "Right let's just call the team together and read these books." Aaron decided. Everything would be explained in the books, he hoped. If not, he would have to talk with James… Harry after the reading.

Fifteen minutes later the team was assembled and informed about the package. The team was looking at Harry strangely since they found out his real name. "Okay, so we have 7 books about Harry's live, let's start reading them. The first one is called _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. We will take turns reading chapters. I'll start." "Hold on!" Harry said. "Before we start, I want to say that by letting you read this, I am breaking the law. There are things in this book that you aren't supposed to know about. So I'm asking you to never breathe a word about anything you learn to anyone." Harry said seriously looking around the room. "I think we can all agree on that." Aaron said and was met with affirmative answers from the rest of the team. They still trusted the young man. "The first chapter is called **The Boy Who Lived.**" Aaron said.

** Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal,thank you very much****_. _**"Well that probably means that they're not and that they're hiding something." David said. **They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. **"Definitely hiding something." Emily added. **Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbours. **"They sound like lovely people." Penelope said with sarcasm. "But I thought the book was about you?" **The Dursleys had a small son called Dudly and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.**

** The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret,**David and Emily smiled. **and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think that they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. **Everyone turned to look at Harry. He just raised an eyebrow.** Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were a unDursleyish**"That isn't even a word." Spencer said. **as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbours would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that****_. _**

** When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work **Harry and Garcia simultaneously looked at Hotch, then at each-other and quickly looked away trying not to laugh. Rossi noticed the exchange and smiled. Harry caught his eyes and winked at him. **and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. 'Little tyke,' chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

** It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of peculiar – a cat reading a map.**"He's hallucinating." **For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.** **Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr Dursely drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said****_ Privet Drive_**_**– **_**no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps **or** signs. Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.**

** But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes****_ s_****tanding quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something … yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.**

** Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills. **He **didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs**Harry raised an eyebrow, this was met with a questioning look from David who sat across from him. **and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite.**Harry rolled his eyes at that.

** He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.**"He gets that with everything that is different, doesn't he?" Derek wondered out loud.**This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. 'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –' ' –yes, their son, Harry –'**

"What about you?" Penelope asked eagerly. Aaron just continued reading. **Mr Dursley stopped dead.** **Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.**

** He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking …No, he was being stupid.**Harry couldn't help it and snorted.**Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew **was **called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy it might have been Harvey. Or Harold****_. _**"Your uncle didn't even know your name?" Penelope asked. **There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if **he'd **had a sister like that … but all the same, those people in cloaks. **"Why are those people wearing cloaks anyway?" Derek wondered.

** He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. **"Ouch" Harry said. **'Sorry', he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.**Harry raised his eyebrow again. **It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice ** **That made passers-by stare: 'Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!****_' _**_"_There's that word Muggle again. It was also in the note. What does it mean?" Spencer wondered. "If it doesn't say in this book, I'll tell you." Harry said, not quite ready to reveal the magic thing.

** And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. **Aaron frowned, being a father he knew imagination was very important. **As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. 'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.**

** Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word ('Shan't!'). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: 'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusual today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin.** **_'_****Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?'**

** 'Well, Ted,'** **Said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour f shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.' Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters … Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from you sister lately, have you?' As he expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. 'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'**

** 'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls … shooting stars … and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today …' '**So**?' snapped Mrs Dursley. 'Well, I just thought … maybe … it has something to do with … you know … ****_her lot_****.'**"What does she mean with that?" Emily asked Harry who kept silent and shook his head. **Mrs Dursley sipped her tea though pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, 'Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?' 'I suppose so,' said Mrs Dursley stiffly. 'What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?' ****_'_****Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.' 'Oh, yes,' said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. 'Yes, I quite agree.' He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed.** **Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind … He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect them … How very wrong he was. **

** Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. **"Okay, that is not normal cat behaviour." Penelope said. **A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

** Albus Dumbeldore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. **"Of course he knew." Harry said.** He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, 'I should have known.' He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer**The team frowned at the book. That was odd and couldn't be real **Until the only lights left in the whole street were the two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

** 'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.' **"What an odd name for a cat." Emily said.** He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. **"I thought this book was non-fiction?" Spencer asked. "It is none-fiction. Magic is real." Harry said and made Spencer's chair float for a few seconds. Then he turned a pen into a butterfly and back. The team stared at him in shock, but didn't say anything. Penelope, however, seemed thrilled. "Okay, non-fiction, magic is real." Spencer mumbled. Aaron cleared his throat and read on.** She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. 'How did you know it was me?' 'My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.' 'You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day,' said Professor McGonagall. 'All day? When you could have been celebrating?** **I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.'**

** Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. 'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something is going on. It was on their news.' She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls … shooting stars … Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.' 'You can't blame them.' Said Dumbledore gently. 'We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.' 'I know that,' said Professor McGonagall irritably. 'But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours. She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here. As though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: 'A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who**Harry sighed. **Seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?' 'It certainly seems so,' said Dumbledore.**Harry glared at the book, earning himself a questioning look from Hotch. **'We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?'**

** 'A what?' 'A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.' 'No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. 'As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone –' 'My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.' Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. 'It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who".' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.' **"This man must have been really bad if they are so scared to say his name, even if he is gone." David said. **'I know you haven't,' said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. 'But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know – oh, all right, Voldemort – was frightened of.' 'You flatter me,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Voldemort had powers I will never have.' 'Only because you're too – well – noble to use them.' 'It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.'**

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, 'The owls are nothing to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer. 'What they're saying,' she pressed on,** **'is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – dead.' **Everyone stared at Harry again.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. 'Lily and James … I can't believe it … I didn't want to believe it … Oh, Albus …' **"I Never realized she cared so much about them." Harry mumbled. **Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 'I know … I know …' he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But – he couldn't.**Everyone stared at Harry again, who was picking imaginary dust of his shoulder. **He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone.' **"Harry?" Aaron asked. "It will all be explained during the books, there's a reason there's seven of them, you know." He said. "Maybe after this chapter, we should move reading the books to my place. There's a lot to read and it will be more comfortable." Harry added. The rest agreed with that. **Dumbledore nodded glumly. 'it's – it's true?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done … all the people he's killed … he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding … of all the things to stop him … but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?' **"I would like to know as well." Aaron interrupted himself. **'We can only guess,' said Dumbledore. 'We may never know.'**

** Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, 'Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?' 'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?' "I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." **"Why do they leave you with them? It's obvious they don't like magic." Emily said. Harry shrugged and Aaron continued. **"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets." **"**Harry Potter come and live here!"** **"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter." **"A letter, he has written a letter?" Derek said, while Harry said, "Logic isn't really the strongest point of most magical people." **"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!" **"Well one prediction came true." David said. "So is there a Harry Potter day?" Derek asked amused. "No! Thank Merlin!"

** "Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"** **Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course." "But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she** **thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.** **"Hagrid's bringing him."** **"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" **Harry huffed. "Though I don't trust him with my secrets I would trust Hagrid with my life." "**I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. **Harry blinked at this. "Riiight." A few members of the team smiled at that reaction. **"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"**

** A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them." If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.** **"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"** **"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."**

**"No problems , were there?" "No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." ** **"No problems, were there?"** **"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy vast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead, they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. **They had all seen the scar before, but never really asked. **"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.** **"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."** **"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"** **"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."**

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.** **"Could I - could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog." "Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"** **"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"** **"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

** "Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."** **"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."** **Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.** **"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.** **Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking** **around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.** **"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone." **"Did they just leave a baby on a doorstep?" Penelope asked incredulously. "Apparently they did." Harry said.

"**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!" **"Well, that was the first chapter." Aaron said. "I think it's indeed a good idea to move this somewhere else."


End file.
